


Love is Not Fine Phrases

by Deyanira



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Lots of gratuitous fluff, M/M, Tentacle Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 11:09:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deyanira/pseuds/Deyanira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos thinks over his relationship with Cecil, and Night Vale in general, which leads into cuddles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love is Not Fine Phrases

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zodiac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zodiac/gifts).



> It's my six month anniversary with mi amor, so I figured I would write some fluff for the occasion.

If there was anything Carlos hated, it was indecisiveness. He knew he could be indecisive, but if science had taught him anything, it was decisions had to be made. And each decision affected many other little things which may seem insignificant, but large in the long run. Every experiment had its control group, one changed variable to determine how it affected the group. Over and over, the scientific hypothesis never steered him wrong. And then he came to Night Vale.

Over the past year (and maybe longer, he wasn’t sure), all of his basic experiments contained skewed results, or answers that made no sense. Water which was meant to flow downhill would flow up. Dyes which were not meant to skew his results would throw the experiment altogether. And then there was Cecil, lovely, wonderful Cecil, who showed him the gentler side of Night Vale, how love was meant to be. Not to say they never argued. Like any other couple, they fought over silly things, such as who would be praying in the bloodstone circle, and who would slit the throat of the chicken. Simple, normal things couples argued over in this town. The scientist smiled. He had not slept with many people, preferring long relationships to one night stands. The very few one night stands were hardly satisfying, only trysts to break up with whomever left in the morning. Carlos wasn’t a big fan of them, seeing physical intimacy as something shared between lovers.

 He was slow at realizing affection, usually waiting far too long to admit any feelings. When Cecil had fawned over him, he felt embarrassed and avoided the radio host when possible. No one just fell in love instantly. Science taught him love was a chemical reaction, a virulent mix of hormones and pheromones. Crushes dissipated after three months, and if it stuck around after, well, then you could say it was love. Falling into that mixture was impossible to do so quickly, and no one could tell him otherwise. Carlos saw it for himself. And yet for him, it took ages to fall in love, to find someone he found compatible. The incident at the Complex solidified what he needed to see. Cecil did truly love him, and he would do best to remember it. Night Vale was still Night Vale, but he could see the innocence, and the hope there was behind all of it. He didn’t like that pens were banned, the dog park forbidden, but he didn’t know how else to live. Not anymore.

 Even his relationship was zero to sixty in 2.6 seconds. They loved hard, their fights weren’t bad. Fighting seemed unnecessary since so many people died every single day. There were days when Carlos would purposely nitpick at Cecil, and Cecil would do the same thing, uncaring of how deep the wounds went. And then they made up after a bad day, tumbling into bed to cuddle with each other out of thankfulness the other was still around.

 This was life as he knew it now, and Carlos wouldn’t give that up for anything. Well, maybe a cookie, since wheat was banned, but still. He missed eating toast with his morning coffee, but it was a small price to pay for happiness. The scientist was being assimilated into Night Vale, no longer as worried about horrible happenings, just accepting them as a part of life. If someone told him over a year ago that he would be okay with full-scale mirages and invading armies, he wouldn’t believe them yet again. Night Vale was horrible and wonderful in its own way.

 Carlos didn’t plan on falling in love, oh no. He was going to trump through his life in Night Vale, then leave it all behind. A man of science, not of fate. “Carlos?”

 “Yes, Cecil? Dinner will be on the table in a couple of minutes.” It was an unspoken agreement between them, after the first time he cooked dinner. Cecil sighed and babbled about how romantic it would be for his boyfriend to cook. A not-so-subtle hint he took to heart soon thereafter. He couldn’t deny Cecil anything, because one day one of them wouldn’t come home. After the incident with the subway, Carlos felt he couldn’t take chances. Not anymore. They could easily run out of chances. Life was forgiving, Night Vale was the farthest thing from being so, especially with City Council. “Carlos, you’re doing that thing again.”

“Sorry. You know, I get lost in my thoughts a lot.”

“I noticed. Sometimes you need to stick to the present.”

“I know. And one of those times is now, I know.” His radio host was always so patient with him, so caring. Carlos shook his head to clear his thoughts, beginning to serve his partner dinner. “It’s not the greatest meal, but it works,” he commented while placing the plate of rice and meat in front of Cecil.

“I’m sure it’ll be delicious.” He always complimented him, and while it was appreciated, sometimes it ground on his nerves. This less offensive than the declaration of “perfect” and “lovely” over the radio, but a compliment nonetheless. Carlos grew up where compliments were delicate at best, rarely an occasion, but when he heard his parents were proud of him, he felt warm inside. So upon hearing Cecil’s words the first time, he was more than a little creeped out, unsure of what he had done to precipitate such fleeting words. “El amor está hecho y no frases finas.” Those words were ingrained into his consciousness, pulling him to the side of disbelief when Cecil would speak highly of him. What would happen when Cecil finally realized he wasn’t perfect? It happened sooner than he hoped, but Cecil always said something became perfect when you accepted them for what they were. And he hoped the radio host accepted he wasn’t as perfect as he imagined, but there was a sort of inner beauty in their relationship. The scientist couldn’t measure it, but he could feel it in his bones, hear it in Cecil’s voice. “Carlos. You’re doing it again.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll be better, I promise.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you actually listen to me when I talk.”

“I do! I swear! I had a long day, I just want to relax tonight,” he mumbled. Carlos did want to relax, and avoid thinking about Night Vale and its oddness, and focus on his relationship. The lighter part of their relationship, not the fighting. “John Peters, you know, the farmer? Well, we haven’t heard from him and I was starting to get worried-”

“Cecil, can we take a vacation today? No science, no radio, no shining crystals, and just take a day to focus on each other? Starting right now, after dinner?” The scientist didn’t want to interrupt Cecil’s story, but he couldn’t stop the thought from growing into a full-fledged want. He looked at him with starry eyes, the amethyst depths more than pleased with this development. “Carlos! How sweet of you to think of us and the health of our relationship. I’ll clear away the plates.” Smiling warmly, the radio host stood from his chair, picking up the dishes to let them soak in soapy water. Once, Cecil asked him how soap helps remove food particles. He used words like “carboxyl group” and “hydrophilic head” while his partner looked on with such adoration, even if he didn’t quite understand what those words meant. “Do you want me to help you with the dishes?”

“No, lovely Carlos. You cooked tonight, so I do the dishes.” Pushing back his chair, Carlos stood up and made his way over to the sink. Cecil looked lovely, hell, domestic would be a better word, but all in all, he looked good. The scientist pressed his lips to the man’s cheek. “Meet me in the bedroom.” With that, he walked to his room, a smile on his face. He knew it wouldn’t take long for the dishes to be cleaned. Laying here, he could remember their first time, after the subway incident. He pleaded with Cecil not to ride it, and they also fought that night. It was their first real fight, and all he could think during it was, “Oh god, I almost lost him. Was this how he felt when he almost lost me?” Suddenly it didn’t seem to be the correct answer, pulling Cecil to the bedroom and kissing him over and over again was right. Not to mention it stopped the constant rambling, and feeling Cecil melt into his touches, whimpering and whining, well, that was a bonus. Soft footsteps announced Cecil’s presence. “Can we just cuddle tonight?”

“Of course.” Cecil didn’t press the issue, only manifesting his tentacles one by one to wrap around his scientist. The first time Carlos saw these appendages, he screamed in horror. Deep down, he suspected his partner wasn’t always so pleased with him, hurt at his reaction. Every time they manifested, the scientist allowed them to wrap about his body. This was his favorite way to spend nights with his radio host. “Thank you.”

“Any time.”


End file.
